Play the Piper
by MertleYuts
Summary: I'm just a witch. I deal in cough medicine, fireworks, and practical things like that. I don't play Music or fight Rats or save cities. But I messed up, and now it's time to pay the Piper- or rather, follow the Piper's painstakingly detailed notes. Only problem? None of them say what to do when the Prince of Rats declares his undying love for you!
1. Chapter 1: The Piper's Parade

**A/N: Hey guys! So, after a ridiculously long dry spell I am back with a new story! Prepare for a long one, because I have only a vague idea where this is going. Okay, okay, so I have more idea than when I started True Love's Curse, but only a little tiny bit more. Mostly I just started to miss writing sassy characters.**

**Also, just in case you couldn't tell, its Pied Piper themed. Cuz I got jealous of all the fun Captain was having! X)**

Chapter 1: The Piper's Parade

Have you ever watched the Piper's Parade from the peak of the gleaming white and copper-green face of the clock tower?

Well, I haven't, and it has become my newest and dearest wish. Okay, third dearest... fourth? Lets just go with it is pretty high up there.

I've seen the Piper's Parade a few times, I mean, if you live anywhere near Habedash you have seen the Piper's Parade at least once, and you've probably heard it every year whether you participate in the festivities or not. But those times that I went I was being bumped and blocked and was desperately wishing that I was just a few inches taller. You would think that people would have more respect for a witch! The best witch in Habedash no less! Okay, well, apprentice to the best witch in Habedash, but it is almost the same thing.

It's the height, I'm sure of it. If I was just a few inches taller I would be able to pull off the intimidating glare right, and then no one would dare jostle such a obviously powerful witch! But then, Granny has the glare right, and she is even shorter than I am... Maybe I need more wrinkles.

Anyway, this year, I am going to the parade. And I will not be bumped and pushed and shoved about, because Hamich says that he knows how to sneak up to the top of the clock tower so we can get the best view in the whole city! 'Course, Hamich and Jakes aren't really clever enough to talk their way out if they get caught, so that's why they need me to use all my tricks and smarts to keep us out of serious trouble. That and Jakes wanted to bring some sparklers up too, so we can celebrate right! And what sort of witch doesn't know how to make some simple sparklers?

Oh, and one other little thing that I would finish if I could just find that sulfur!

I dig around Granny's shelves pushing aside all manners of roots and jars with a clink and a rustle, and try to repress a sneeze as something particularly peppery manages to get up my nose. It took me years to master Granny's strange organization, but it still manages to get the better of me sometimes.

"Granny!" I call up the stairs from the basement where I am working, "Granny! I can't find the sulfur!"

"Did you look behind the Woolwart?" Granny's voice drifts down.

I look behind the dried bunch of Woolwart.

"It's not there!" I call back up.

There is an offended thump thump thump as Granny marches down the hallway and stomps down the stairs, as if the sulfur has committed a heinous crime by being out of place. "Know that sulfur is there," she mutters to herself as she grabs the stool from the corner and climbs up for a better look at the offending shelf. Granny is the sort of petite little gray haired lady that looks kindly and harmless until she starts swearing like a sailor and threatening to curse you eight ways to next Tuesday if you don't listen careful.

After a good minute of searching she turns a suspicious eye back on me, "What do you need it for?"

"Hamich, Jakes, and I were going to light some sparklers for the parade," I explain, not quite meeting her eyes.

She has given me the lecture before. She knows she has given me the lecture before and she knows that I remember it very well. So instead of the full lecture about the Frippery of those Piper's Children with their Music and their mountain and their gallivanting about, she gives me that look that she has been giving me recently, the one that says I am a grown woman and allowed to make my own decisions. Then she turns back and mutters threats at the shelves.

I sigh with relief, tugging at my braid once her back is turned. I had been expecting the full lecture, and if that had happened I would never make it to Teal Street in time. Or worse she might have started asking questions about what the cauldron was doing out because it certainly wasn't needed for the sparklers.

The thing to know about Granny is that she is an excellent witch and a sensible woman, but anything that she doesn't understand is tossed aside as Useless Frippery. Things like ladies' bustles and politics and horses and tea spoons and pocket watches and puff pastries and the time I turned my hair blue (she made me turn it back to brown almost immediately, it was that or not be allowed near the more sensitive potions) and especially Music. Granny says that as witches we deal in sensible things like cough medicine and whiskey. Granny is a great believer that anything that cannot be cured with a potion or a spot of advice can be cured with a good bottle of whiskey, and it is just as likely that someone will be sent out with one as the other.

"I could swear that I just used it too," she mutters into a bundle of herbs as she reaches her arm all the way to the far back of the shelves.

She had? Something tugs at the back of my mind. I move over to the bench in the back corner where Granny does her mixing and sure enough, there sits the innocent little jar of egg yellow powder.

"Granny," I call to her.

"Just a moment," she calls and I turn back to see just her legs hanging out of the shelf.

"Granny, you don't need-"

"I almost got it," is her muffled response. Her legs kick and her skirt ruffles about and with a grunt she wiggles back out, triumphantly holding a jar of rust red flakes. She curses as she catches sight of the color of the contents, then turns to see me holding the proper jar.

"See, I knew it was around here somewhere," she says with a huff, then shoves the jar of flakes back into the depths of the shelf with a jitter and a clink from the other contents.

She dusts herself off and picks a stray leaf off of her vest. "Well, then I will leave you to it-" she is about to head back upstairs when her gaze falls on the small cauldron on my work bench, quietly boiling a few sips of dark purple liquid. "Willow Wetherwitch, what is boiling in your cauldron?"

"Nothing," is my automatic response, but I don't know why I bother.

Granny fixes me with one of her notorious Glares and I break instantly. "We were going to go watch the parade from the clock tower, so I thought I would use a Look Aside potion so we don't get caught," I mutter, suddenly intently interested in the dark greenish stain I had made on the stone floor several years back.

Granny gives the cauldron a sniff, then tests the consistency with a nearby spoon. She looks at me then back at the purple potion. "You know, if you are going to be using it outside you should add a little extra leftroot extract, little extra mint for flavor too," I groan as she gives it another sniff, "and I think you might have gone a bit heavy on the milkw-"

"No!" I grab the mint away before she can start adding things. "This is mine. My potion." I had been working on it all week after all.

"Now, Willow, this is a very tricky potion, you could-"

I hold the ingredients closer. She shakes her head and drops in, with a plip, just a single pellet of ruby colored oak blood. "Wouldn't want you getting caught," she says with a wink, then tromps back upstairs. "And don't you get caught up in all that Useless Frippery, Willow," she calls down, "I expect you to make me dinner tonight. I have a craving for beets."

I sigh once the door shuts. "Oh, that's am awfully tricky potion Will," I mutter to myself, "You are doing an excellent job with it, I'm so proud of you! Oh, it was nothing, Granny, just doing like you taught me." But I add the extra ingredients just like she suggested. I would have showed it to her before I left, really I would have! She would have smiled and shook her head like she just had... At least it will taste a little better now, I guess.

The potion has to simmer down a bit and cool, so I make the sparklers while I wait. Sparklers are easy, they are the same as fireworks, just glued to a stick instead of put in a careful casing, and fireworks are the very first thing a witch learns. Even Maribelle on East street can do them.

I roll up sparkler after sparkler, and when I am just about out of powder I check the clock. "Rats!" I jump up and toss the sparklers in a bag, then burn myself putting the Look Aside in a bottle. Hamish and I had agreed on noon a block from the east side of the court house on Teal, and it was five after. And not just five after on Granny's clock which was always ten minutes ahead, but actually five after. I spend another two minutes digging around for a cork, pull on my boots, shake out my skirt, and run out the door. "Bye Granny!" I shout before the door slams shut.

I dash past the slower pedestrians, feet on the cobblestones clop clop clop, and duck into that alley with the black gate that is never locked. Under the Toolhouse arch, down the block with the blue houses, turn at the Millers street, and decide to climb to the upper level and take the Jack arch because the Rose arch is going to be completely blocked with people waiting for the parade to go by. I am back on street level and two blocks away before I realize that I am still wearing the heavy leather gloves. I slow down, tuck them into my bag and keep up a brisk pace past Palm arch. I dodge a man with a cane, pass a blue carriage, round the final corner and find Hamish, Jakes, and Georgie all waiting for me on the corner. As soon as Jakes catches sight of me he snaps closed the pocket watch that his rich daddy bought for him. "Ten minutes late," he proclaims with his tall voice.

"Stuff it, Jakes," I shove my bag at the younger boy, younger but still lanky and plenty taller than me. He's got this long nose just like his father, perfect for looking down at people. Granny has a long nose too, maybe that is what I need instead of wrinkles.

"We agreed on noon, and it is important to be timely lest you offend-"

"I was making your rat eaten sparklers, Jakes, so stuff it," I repeat, "And that means it's not really my fault."

"So really it's your fault, Jakes," Hamich punches Jakes playfully on the arm and laughs his deeper laugh that I have yet to get used to even after hearing it for the last few years.

Hamich used to be a pudgy little blond boy like his brother Georgie. When we met he said my pigtails were dumb, and I told him that his curls made him look like a girl. He couldn't come up with a response so he decided to be my friend instead of trying to argue with me. Even now that he has grown tall and put on muscle and has all the girls chasing after his silly curly head, he knows better than to argue with me.

"Hey, Georgie, didn't know you were coming," I address little Georgie directly, because he is so shy it's the only way to get him talking.

"Hamich said I could," he tells his shoes in a small voice.

"Without asking any of us," Jakes feels the need to add for some reason. Georgie studies his shoes even more intently and mutters something I can't make out. I roll my eyes, Jakes can be such a bully when he gets in these moods of his.

"Aww, what's the matter Jakes?" I ask innocently, "You upset that you couldn't invite your brother?" Jakes turns bright red as Hamich and Georgie try to stifle their laughter. Jakes' brother is a bit of a sore spot for him. I never decided which he was more jealous of, the fact that his brother, Marcus, is off at a prestigious university, or that the last time Marcus came home, he spent most of the time flirting with me, and not without some success either.

"Besides," I add, "there is more than enough Look Aside for all of us."

"Uhg, that stuff tastes like rat droppings," Jakes makes a face and sticks out his tongue.

"Better that than caught," I shoot, 'cause we all know what Jakes' Daddy will do if Jakes gets caught. "And I think I might have fixed the taste a little this time."

Hamich grins as he starts leading the way toward the main square, "You are brilliant, Will." There is shy but emphatic agreement from Georgie and grudging from Jakes.

"Of course I am," I grin, ego sufficiently stroked for all the work I put in. It's nice to be appreciated.

The ever constant background hum of city noise grows into shape as the streets become more crowded. The bright and gaudy sound of excitement rises as we walk towards the river that the parade always follows, and I feel my annoyance rising as I am swept along with the crowd. I hate being pushed. I hate not being in control. I take the opportunity to practice glaring, but no one seems to notice. Rats.

Finally, we reach the main square, the fountain all full of flowers. Purple and gold banners with pipes on them hang from every wall, lines of little flags strung from roof to roof, and a solid roar from the crowd. People crammed in to every spare spot around the clearing where the parade will perform its final act before making its way back across the river and up the mountain to the Children's Village.

There is the stern faced courthouse, the smiling statue of the Piper, and there, rising above everything, the tower. Arches stacked double and topped with a clock face, standing tall and proud, laden with streamers, and hanging the largest banner of all right above the bottom arch where the parade with march through to return to their mountain side. Hamich breaks away from the current of people who are cutting through the clock arch, instead we dart towards the nearby steps of the court house. A number of people have already set up on the steps, waving little ribbons or blowing tin horns, so we have to dart around them. The real problem, however, appears in the form of a certain Captain Partridge of the Queen's Guard, standing right at the entrance of the tower alley that Hamich was heading for. Hamich ducks instead to the top of the steps, behind a pillar where we can converse without drawing too much attention.

"Should we use the potion?" Hamich looks to me for instruction.

I check back at the alley where Captain Partridge is currently directing a couple off towards the park or something. "It looks too narrow, one of us is bound to bump into him," I glance at Hamich's broad shoulders and my long whip of a braid then back at the alley. "Besides, he is specifically on the look out for strange things, so I don't know how well it will work on him." I tug on my braid for a minute.

Captain Partridge... It could be much, much worse, Captain Partridge is something of a family friend ever since Granny mixed up a cure for his dying brother, back before he was a Captain. In a good mood Captain Partridge is even a little mischievous himself, in a bad mood? Well, when I was younger, he once made Granny walk halfway across the city to pick me up at the jail because he knew she would be furious with me, and all because I accidentally set one little boat on fire. But Captain Partridge liked Music and parades and he looked to be in a good mood today, and if all else failed, I knew where Joanna was this morning.

"Alright, let me do the talking," I warn the boys, and we pick through the crowd and walk right up to Captain Partridge, just as bold as brass.

"Ah, Will and company, up to your usual mischief today?" he greets us, but he is all smiles below his gruff black mustache, we might have just gotten very lucky.

"Only a little," I grin innocently, "just trying to find a good spot for the parade."

He laughs, "Good luck with that, I swear the crowd gets larger every year."

"It's a shame you are working during the parade though," I comment and the boys make sounds of agreement behind me.

"Oh, no," he says happily, and this is obviously the source of his good mood, "The new recruits are on duty for the once the parade starts, he glances up at the very clock tower we are trying to climb, "Can't be more than ten minutes now, and my replacement is always early."

"Always early, imagine that," Jakes drawls behind me. I take the opportunity to flip my braid back behind my shoulder and it lands heavily on his arm. He stifles a yelp of surprise.

"Oh!" I continue pleasantly, ignoring Jakes and his antics, "you must be heading over to Yates arch soon then, Joanna was telling me recently that it has the best view of the fiddlers and, of course you know, they are her favorite."

Captain Partridge is all attention as soon as I mention Joanna, "Yates Arch?" he says thoughtfully, "Yes there would be a good view there, wouldn't there? And not too crowded..." he trails off.

"And of course it is right at the beginning of the parade so as soon as it passes you can cut over to other streets and catch it again! And you know Joanna, she is not much of one to stay in the same place long." I give him only a moment to absorb that, then quickly finish, "Well, enjoy the parade, I think we are going to try our luck on the Court House steps here," I smile and wave and shoo all the boys back to the steps.

"Why the heck did we even bother with that?" Jakes whines, "I would have stayed home and watched from my balcony if I had known that we would just be watching from the court house stairs!"

"Watch and learn, boys," I grin and squeeze past a smelly man and a family of screaming children to get a better view of Captain Partridge.

It works better than I had dared hope. With little more than a final glance over the crowd, Officer Partridge strolls across the square, giving the more rambunctious kids a stern look, but as soon as he hits the edge of the square he is hurrying off.

Hamich grins ear to ear and picks me up he is so pleased, though admittedly, Hamich is pretty easy to please.

"How'd you know he would do that?" Jakes says under the din of the crowd.

I could tell him that Granny once told me I was too shy and would get in less trouble if I was better with people so I spent the next few years practicing. I could tell him that I had already used a similar trick on Officer Partridge last month. However, I decide to go with the more enigmatic response.

"Well he certainly didn't want to miss Joanna," I tuck a satisfied grin into the corner of my lips and dig around in my bag for the potion, letting Jakes ponder that one on his own.

The smelly man gives us a bit of a look when I brandish the vial and take a small sip then cough on the taste. The mint helped... but only barely.

We pass the bottle around, the boys grimacing in turn before they take their turn. Hamich shudders and laughs after he tries it and passes it to Jakes, "At least it doesn't have that after taste of old fish anymore," he shrugs, always the optimist.

None of the other boys seem to agree.

I look back to the smelly man, who seems to have completely forgotten about us. I jump and wave my arms a bit, but no one pays us any mind. Perfect.

With that done we all duck through the crowd and to the alley we had been headed to before. Bricks line either side and it is darker from the walkway above so we are given a bit of privacy. Hamich points to a ladder probably used by those who maintain the clock tower, but it is folded just out of our reach. "This is why we want Georgie here."

Georgie's eyes go wide.

In a short matter of time, Georgie is standing on Hamich's shoulders, but he is just a hand's width short. "I can't reach!" he says, still straining his fingers as he says so. He looks apologetically down at us.

"What about me?" I ask Hamich, "Can you lift me?"

"Not with you standing like Georgie is." Hamich is strong, but still looks a little pinched just with Georgie.

"He could reach it if he jumps," Jakes eyes the distance between Georgie and the ladder.

"No!" Georgie shakes his head violently which makes Hamich grimace at the movement.

"We promise to catch you!" I move to the front of Hamich as Jakes moves to the back.

"I- I can't!" Georgie stutters.

"You are so brave, Georgie, I know you can, and we will catch you once you knock it loose. All you have to do is knock it loose," I say comfortingly, holding up my arms prepped to catch him. Georgie mumbles something.

He can jump. He's got to jump. Or all of this was for nothing!

"JUMP!" Jakes shouts from behind, and I will never admit it to him, but for once his bossy voice is useful, because it startles Georgie into jumping.

Hamich grunts, the ladder clatters, and with a small shriek Georgie is safe in mine and Hamich's arms. The ladder rattles down and lands with a bang behind us and Jakes cheers. We all pat Georgie on the back and congratulate him. Then we are all scrambling up the ladder, because in the distance, we hear the tell tale clap of a cannon that signals the start of the parade. A cheer rises from the crowd as thick as fog and louder than the thunderous echo from the cannon.

In short order we are all up the wooden ladder and standing on one of two small platforms on either side of the clock face. A locked door probably leads to the inner workings of the clock and bells, but Hamich is even bolder and we do not stop here. He shows us how to scale the stone embellishments to the very top. We duck a few ropes hanging streamers across the square and finally are all seated on the flat bit between the small rat gargoyles and the sloping copper roof.

Our excitement is tangible as in the distance we make out the thump, bang, and twiddle of music, and we catch glimpses of the parade on its way through the streets. We kick our heels for a bit, waiting, until Hamich pulls out the apples and sweet bread he brought and passes them around. Jakes digs about for his matches and lights one on the head of our stony rat companions. We pass out sparklers and eat our treats and feel like kings on the very top of the world! Georgie smiles and points his sparkler just before the sound breaks like a wave out of the streets and into the square, followed moments later by the parade itself!

Three pipers, of course, lead the way, dressed in motley colors and topped with feathered hats. They do not dance, they march. The Piper's Children would consider it blasphemous to suggest that the great Piper danced. He was a stately figure who saved our city after all. So the pipers march, playing their pipes while a fourth one, an old man in motley robes holds up a bone white pipe. The Piper's pipe. The crowd all press their hands to their hearts as the pipe passes, but their attention is not held by the pipe for long. Behind the pipers come ribbon twirlers and acrobats! Then come more of the Piper's Children all dressed in purple, tossing candy to the children in the crowd, following the music of pipes just as the original Children did. The children in the crowd push forward to grab at the sweets, but the parents pull them out of the clearing in the square that will soon fill up even more.

The pipers stops just below our perch and turn to face the square. The final show of the parade is about to begin! The Piper's pipe is lifted and on cue the full force of Piper's Children each with their own instrument march into the square, playing for all they are worth.

The music is huge and grand and fills your ears, your head, your every sense with shaking beats from the drum and sweeping notes from the strings and through it all weaves the sharp and playful notes of the pipers, darting through the song like a bird through the clouds. It all meshes into something larger than just the players, a thing that flows through your every limb and moves you to the beat, that grabs your heart and squeezes tight and steals your breath away.

The Piper's Children all form up before the pipers, and at a motion from the three pipers the music shifts. It is slow and heavy and the trill of pipes is no where to be heard.

Rats enter from the street.

Performers dressed in black with paper-mache masks, but the crowds pull back from them all the same. The cheers turn to jeers as the Rats dart around and grab dancers in mock fights. A couple children scream, and the four of us are suddenly glad for our high perch, though not a single one of us will admit it.

I have never seen a Rat. People that stopped being people, the Piper's Children say. They wear awful rat masks, and move all wrong, and eat your eyes, and steal your soul, and feed on fear, and gobble up bad children in the night! But the Piper's Children and our Queen keep them out and keep us safe. And just as the Rats break past the dancers and start to go for the Piper's Children that is just what happens! The Pipers raise the pipes to their lips and play, and all of the Children pick up instruments and play the great grand song! The Rats jerk back and shake their heads, then jerk back more and dance about in dismay, because everyone knows that there is nothing Rats hate more than Music!

All four of us cheer and light new sparklers and wave them about manically as the Piper's drive the Rats back out of the square. A cheer goes up, so loud it almost drowns out even the music for a moment, and we are screaming our heads off right along, even Georgie!

A new song starts as the Piper's Children start their next song, the one where the Piper comes to lead the Children up the mountain and teach them about Music. I love this one, and we all keep cheering such that we almost miss the only angry shout in the entire city, just below us.

"Hey you kids!"

I glance down at the platform with the door, not quite comprehending why there is a guard on it.

* * *

**So, not much happening yet, but I promise the real story starts up next chapter. (I make no promises, not even a little, about how often this will be updated, just sayin' now)**


	2. Chapter 2: The Piper's Pipe

Chapter 2: The Piper's Pipe 

"You are not supposed to be up here! Come down this instant!" The guard shouts at us as the boys start to take notice of our visitor.

All of our eyes grow wide as we realize that not only has he noticed us, even with the Look Aside, but he has followed us all the way up here. Hamich looks at me, then at the other side of the tower where an identical platform leads back down to the ground. If Captain Partridge finds out we were up here we are going to be in five kinds of trouble. Even worse, Granny will think that my Look Aside didn't work!

As one, we all stand and dart to the other side of the tower, clambering down to the second platform. The guardsman realizes what we are doing, and starts climbing up the embellishments to catch us. Hamich is down first and helps Georgie down. Georgie and Hamich release the ladder while Jakes and I clamber down to help them. My heart is pounding loud in my ears, or maybe that is just the drums.

Jakes is down the ladder first, because he will get the worst if we get caught. Hamich helps Georgie onto the ladder just as the Guard clears the top of the tower and starts down to our side.

Stupid persistent son of a Rat! This is why I hate new recruits, they are so full of big ideas and determination. Not to mention climbing skills! Who said guards were allowed to be part monkey?

There is no way we can all get out of this.

Georgie is climbing and Hamich is calling me, motioning towards the ladder, but I push him towards it first. He looks reluctant. "Granny knows I'm here," I shout because it is probably more than he can say about his father, and with a nod he swings down and starts climbing.

I actually manage to get one foot on the ladder before a strong hand grabs my arm. I try to shake it off, but instead am pulled back onto the platform. Oh well, I hadn't really thought I would get down the ladder once I sent Hamish down, better I am up here to distract him while the guys get away.

Still- _Rats_! _Rats_! _Rats_!

I swing around and try my worst Glare at the guard who ruined all our fun. He is a young guy, with a big chin, a sharp nose, and a silver helmet that looks a bit small, and he kindly obliges me by looking quite startled for a moment at my Glare.

Yes! I wrinkled up my eyes this time, so it must be the wrinkles.

The guard recovers himself enough to remember that he is supposed to say something upon apprehending a "criminal", but can't seem to think of what to say in such a situation as this. I can almost see his mind make the paces through "Stop!" and "Halt!", then redirect to several less than professional lines as I continue to Glare. I cross my arms as best I can with him still holding me and look at him expectantly.

"I'm not entirely certain what the protocol is for this situation," he says by way of excuse.

"No, no, by all means, take your time," I say graciously, "but I really don't think that I have done anything wrong here."

The guard looks at me incredulously. "You are trespassing on top of the clock tower with dangerous materials that could be hazardous to public health _and_ you tried to evade capture. I am nearly certain that there is at least a fine in there somewhere. And you should give me the names of your accomplices."

I pout. This is why I dislike new recruits. They have this misconception that there are all these rules that they have to enforce or something similarly ridiculous!

"Well, I've got a little bit of money that I could give you for the fine, and then you could just let me go," I offer reasonably.

"And now you are trying to bribe me!" the guard adds to my list of misconduct.

"I am not trying to bribe you," I groan, of course, he doesn't take bribes either! What kind of terrible guard is he anyway? He has a lot to learn, I can tell you that. "I am just trying to get back to watching the parade."

"Oh no, you have to come down to the station with me," the guard nods, as if he has just decided this is the best course of action.

I start to get a little nervous. "No, please, come on," I give my arm a little tug, "There's a whole crowd down there of pickpockets and thieves, and you choose me to pick on? I'm not hurting anyone. I just want to watch the parade." The music blares loud below us.

"One of the Senior Officers will know what to do with you," the guard says stubbornly, gently guiding me towards the ladder. I frown, heart beating rapidly as I realize that he is going to let me go down first. When I get to the bottom I will make a run for it and leave him in the crowd.

He seems to come to the same conclusion as me at the same time, and quickly takes the ladder himself, "You will follow me," he instructs me.

I sigh, disappointed.

"You didn't really think I was going to make it that easy on you?" he says dryly, raising an eyebrow. I glare squinty eyed at him again. Rat. Taking me to the Guard station where Captain Partridge is going to have my hide and send for Granny, and then Granny is going to be disappointed in me, and then Captain Partridge is going to guess that Jakes and Hamich were with me and tell their parents, and they will never be allowed out of the house, and all because this stupid recruit is too clever and part monkey!

With all of these undesirable results in mind, I watch the guard step a few rungs down and then motion for me to get on as well. I move towards the ladder, and stop indignantly. "You are just going down first so you can look up my skirt!" I accuse indignantly.

The guard turns a slight shade of pink beneath his helmet and shakes his head rapidly, "Of course I wo-"

"Yes you will!" I glare at him again.

He sighs an all suffering sigh. "I promise I won't look up. Is that acceptable?" he moves down a little further and looks straight down at the ground to assure me.

"Alright," I say hesitantly, and put one hand on the ladder. He is very carefully not watching me, so I bolt, quiet as I can, back to the clock tower and start mounting the embellishments again.

It takes him a few seconds to notice, but by the time I hear, "Hey, stop!" from the ladder, I am halfway up. I duck under a rope of lanterns and grab onto a rat gargoyle to pull myself the last little way.

Oh, I am just too clever!

That is when I feel a firm tug on my ankle.

RATS!

"This is dangerous," the guard calls, "Just come down now." Yeah, right!

"Why don't you just let me go?" I propose instead, mind scrambling for the next option.

"I'm too stubborn?" he suggests, and gives another small tug.

"Problem is," I call down, "I am too," and with that I give a fierce kick. His hold loosens, but not enough, instead, my grip on a stone swirl slips.

My ankle is pulled the wrong way. My stomach flips as I fall back from the wall and into open air. Time slows as I flail desperately for a hold on the wall. The empty wind behind me, the beat of drums below me, the slow pound of my heart. Once, twice.

I grab hold of the rope of lanterns.

Time snaps back and every cell in my body jumps, so quick it gives me whip-lash. I have only a flash of relief, not even enough time to scream. The rope turns from my lifeline to a loose string in my hands.

My fall continues.

Before I even realize what is happening I am half way down the tower, the guard and his grip long gone. The rope stretches tight again then burns in my hands. Two instincts fight it out, one to hold on and one to let go. Before the conscious part of my brain can even start up to scream logic at the situation, my hands release the rope.

My knees clench around the rope long enough for my hands to remember the specific circumstances and grab back on. The pain in my hands plays games with time, but I hold on like my life depends on it, because it probably does.

I slow, quite noticeably. I slow almost to a stop, almost to the point where I start considering things like climbing down, when suddenly the rope runs out.

The ground hits me like a wave. Solid and large. The breath leaves my lungs so fast I don't realize its gone till I start coughing. My limbs are startled by the sudden halt and my hands are still on fire, but I am very much alive and whole and with little more that a bruise or two.

Bells and Pipes, but I thought I was a goner there for a second.

I groan as I try to stand up. Now if I could just decide which way is up.

The ground moves beneath me, and I suddenly realize that it isn't the ground. I landed on an unfortunate old man. I try to apologize and get off of him quickly, but end up just rolling away because my head really isn't attached right and it might fall off if I stand. The old man looks very angry at me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to knock you over," I apologize, "I was just-" I look up to the clock tower in fright as I recall the guard who no longer seems to be there, but is surely going to add assaulting a poor old man to my list of crimes. I spot the guard just as he comes sprinting full tilt out of the alley and into the crowd, looking at me in horror. His is the only still face in a crowd of people cheering and watching the other end of the square where the climax of the performance is being acted out. The Piper in his final battle with the Rats.

I am being rather forcefully pulled to my feet by the old man, which sends my vision reeling again. The old man has gotten a few friends. Two other old men, in some sort of old man gang that beats up poor disrespectful hooligans like myself. They all surround me and block me from the view of the crowd as they drag me away.

I try to focus, try to apologize and explain myself, but for some reason words are remarkably hard to form and my tongue just flops uselessly around my mouth. Flop, flop, flop, just like my limbs as I am pulled through the clock arch.

The square lets out a final cheer and the Children play their last strains before they all march back up the mountain. But poor me, I do not get to watch, because I am being dragged down a side street, pulled under an arch, and thrown down onto the cobbles.

The old men are all yelling at me now. I try to explain that I don't understand because neither of us seem to be speaking the same language, and I am really sorry.

Where is that guard? Why is he trying to arrest me when he should really be taking down these old man gangs who look angry enough to kill me.

I shrink away from them as they start waving broken sticks at me. Why are the Children playing so _loud_? They are supposed to be done.

The world is so blurry.

"Wha?" I shout at the old men, because I can't hear them over the music. They all stop shaking sticks at me and look at each other instead. It is about this time I notice that the old man I hit is dressed in motley, and the other two are in purple.

I get this feeling like that is really important, but I can't think in straight lines right now. I can't even think in wobbly lines. More like fireworks. Thoughts keep blowing up and flying in all directions before I can grab them.

Finally, the guard comes running over to us, and starts talking to the old men. Stupid part monkey, Rat-eaten guard. The old man gang starts yelling at him instead. Waving their broken sticks and pointing at me.

The world slows spinning a bit, and I start to pick out words from the old men, like "irresponsible" and "catastrophe". There seems to be less attention on me at the moment, the Look-Aside must still be working, even in such a mess as this. So I stumble to my feet and try to sneak quietly away. I really don't want to go to the station today, and Granny will have something for my hands...

A hand on my shoulder stops me, a fourth old man in purple has appeared. "Why don't you sit down," he asks, but he misplaced the question mark somewhere and it turned into a strong suggestion instead. Tricky old man. "We need you where we can find you for the moment."

I nod, still in something of a fog, and allow myself to be directed to a stone bench. I sit down, cradling my head and my hands, and not sure which hurts more. Meanwhile, the nicer but tricky old man stands over me. The music has quieted down a bit now, but I don't think it is the Children's music anymore. It bounces around my head, rattling all my thoughts.

"Why is everyone so angry?" I ask the nicer old man once I am capable of slow but recognizable speech. The other old men are still shouting at the guard while he tries to explain, but they are so angry that their sounds are all wrong. I wish I knew why I just thought that.

The old man looks at me a bit strangely. "Do you know what you just did?"

"I knocked over your friend," I mumble into my red hands, "I'm really sorry." I look up dolefully at the nice old man.

His expression is pitying. I am not sure I like it, but at least it is better than angry.

"You knocked over the first piper," the old man explains. Well, that explains why he has so many friends, I think. The first piper is the most skilled piper of the Piper's Children, a pretty important guy- "And you broke the Piper's Pipe."

It takes me a full minute to process the second part. I broke... I broke the... the Piper's Pipe. The _Piper's_ Pipe. The Piper's _Pipe_! I _broke_-

My head splits in two before I can up and run, and leaves me incapacitated with my head in my hands. What have I done?!

The old men and the guard are done yelling, and now I am being pulled up and shuffled down the street. I think I start crying, because I am in so much trouble, and my head and hands hurt so bad, and I don't know what is going on, and all I wanted to do today was see the parade!

I think we are walking for a while because we take all the back roads to avoid people and cross the West River at some point and end up walking up the maze of stairs that compose the Piper's village. Or at least I think that's where I am, I've never been here before, only ever seen it crawling, white and busy, up the side of the mountain.

There are stairs. Lots of stairs and arches and pillars and I just want to sit, just want this to be over. I am led into a big airy hall with lots of white and shadows. Lots of people are crowded in and give us strange looks as we pass. I am herded out of the hall and into a tiny room with a hard bench and a single window.

I am dropped onto the bench and the lock drops in place with a metallic thump. The world is still reeling, so I curl up on the bench and close my eyes to make it stop.

I see the sounds, dancing in my head. Dark wide drum beats and sharp angry notes. There is noise outside my door, but it is worse in my head.

There is a heavy fog over all my senses, and yet, I hear too many things and they are all the wrong color. My heart pounds slow slow notes in my head, and my hands throb with every beat.

What is happening?

What is wrong with me?

What is happening?

* * *

**Yay! Update and it's only been a little more than a week! This was a fun chapter to write, because I do so love writing action and chaos! So, lemme know what you think. I am always terrible at remembering what I have and have not explained in an understandable way, obviously a lot of explanation will be snuck in later, but if there is anything that needs to be clearer immediately just lemme know!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Piper's Children

Chapter 3: The Piper's Children

I don't realize that I have fallen asleep until I am shaken awake.

It is that stupid guard.

I blink blearily. I groan. I sit up and groan again, but I am relieved to find that the world stays in the same place. The sun is setting outside, and the guard looks low. When did it get so late?

"What are you still doing here?" I ask sharply, glaring from my position on the bench.

He pauses and looks blankly at me for a moment, I can almost see the gears turning in his head. Not exactly the brightest candle in the shop, this one.

"I've been helping you," he says, voice tinged blue with tired strains of offense taken, "I've spent the last three hours insisting to the all the first Children that I probably have the power to arrest them if they kill you."

I can't decide if I believe him or not, but this entire situation takes on even more weight, and it was already pretty heavy to start with. A hundred questions and demands all fight to get past my lips, but he doesn't really seem to be here to explain what is going on, nor up to the task for that matter. So I bite my tongue.

For several moments, the neither of us make a move.

"Thanks," I say grudgingly, after several moments more, because I don't think he was going to break the awkward silence.

"Just doing my job," his ramrod posture relaxes just the barest bit. Then, after a moment he adds, much more quietly "In a way it is my fault."

I don't say anything, because it kind of is. If he had been worrying about crime on the streets instead of bothering our innocent little band on the rooftops this would never have happened. If he had let me go down the ladder first this never would have happened. If he had not been so stubborn and grabbed my ankle and practically threw me off, all of this never would have happened! Whatever 'all of this' is.

He won't look me in the eye, and his mouth remains a firm line, but he sort of motions towards the door where a pair of purple robed Children wait, glaring all sorts of sharp notes at us.

I stand with only a little difficulty. My legs are stiff, my hip is definitely bruised, and my hands are shiny and raw, but everything works. Okay, I can do this. I stand in front of the guard, chin defiantly high.

"Alister Krumbold, Officer of the Queens Guard" he introduces himself stiffly and offers a hand.

"Willow Wetherwitch," I respond, and show him one hand rather than shaking.

He quickly pulls back his hand, and a single apologetic sound slips from his lips.

The Children at the door make several poignant coughs, and Alister steels his features. I try to follow his example, but really can't manage much to hide the wide-eyed confusion over the whole situation. However, I figure that wherever I am going they have to explain what is going on in order to yell at me properly, so at least I will get a better idea soon.

Alister ushers me to the door, and the Children sniff and start leading us down the halls before the door even shuts behind me.

I finally get the chance to really look at my surroundings, though there is not too much to see in the hallway. White stone walls, high arched ceiling, and golden lamps curved selfishly around their fires. Our footsteps echo strangely back at us in the narrow quarters. I start to feel slightly claustrophobic with the flickering lights and all the bitter ill will that is being directed at me from the Children.

We climb a narrow set of stairs, and suddenly I am hit with cool breeze and wide space. We enter the huge dome of the Children's Village, and I would have stopped open mouthed and stared if Alister hadn't kept pushing me forward. A shame he has to be so straight laced, or I might have lost the Children.

The dome is so high and wide, and supported by so few pillars that I swear it must be floating. Glittering wind chimes are hung from the dome and create a softly tinkling night sky of twinkling silver high above us. Windows open wide to the setting sun cast over the city, just across the river. Most of the windows are glassless, framed only by light purple drapes, but some have elaborate stained glass panes, each one showing some part of the Piper's history. Piper's Children of every age walk slowly to and from all directions under the dome, some talking in pairs around the balconies on the upper levels, some wandering quietly to ponder the view or rushing off somewhere, but just about all of them have their instruments close by. I could have stared quite a while, but I am shuffled quickly through another door and lose sight of the dome.

We climb another set of stairs to a walkway that must have been carved right into the mountain side. I only get a brief view of the white waterfalls and arched houses of the Children's village, because one of the Children escorting me, a younger man with small eyes and wide shoulders, has realized my tendency to be distracted by the view. He takes it upon himself to walk directly between me and the city, then he glares at me every time I try to peek past him. Well, thats just poor manners, that is. Here I am, a guest in his lovely villiage- Okay, okay, so I am in big trouble and being escorted to my nearly certain doom. He's still being a Rat.

I am led, still in utter silence up another two flights of stairs, over a bridge above a small, singing little waterfall, and into a much smaller domed building. Two huge oak doors stand open to a bright white room with a long wood table. The table itself is not particularly remarkable. What is remarkable is the fact that there are nearly a dozen white robed men and women standing around it, and they _all_ have the Glare. They have it down pat because they all simultaneously stop their cacophony of arguments and turn it silently on me as soon as I walk in.

The Children leading me quickly back away, as if fearful of catching stray Glares. Even Alister looks a bit stiffer, if that is even possible, as he leads me to the bottom of the long table. I should have quailed more, it would have been appropriate, but I am too busy trying to figure out if more of them have wrinkles or long noses.

"Sit, girl," an order from a man on my left with a long face and a long white beard.

I sit in the only empty chair set a few steps back from the table. I glance around at all of the Children, most on their feet and craning over to inspect me. I don't know very much about the Children and how they organize themselves, but I am assuming these are a bunch of big important ones. Maybe more first Children.

Some of them start whispering white hot words to each other, others seem to recall that they are supposed to be pinnacles of composed kindness and re-assume their calm demeanors, studying me carefully. Among the studiers, and one of the only ones sitting, is the tricky old man peering at me over steepled fingers. I study him back. I decide the thing worth liking about him is his hair. It is white and only flat on top, like he started combing it then forgot halfway through. I smile just a tiny little smile at him, a 'look I didn't run away' sort of smile. He returns it with a smile like rosemary, subtle but friendly, and just at the corners of his eyes.

Our staring match is abruptly interrupted by the waving wide sleeves of a round, ruddy faced man with a robust voice. "She is far too old, she is a commoner and a hooligan and completely useless to us, you can't possibly think-"

"It's not that I don't agree with you," a thin woman with a severe bun and high cheek bones interrupts, "But we can't just try any old solution and run the risk of loosing the Music!" she shouts in a reedy voice, right back at the robust man. Similar arguments are building in volume all around the table, and the sound of all of their frustration and anger starts rattling around my head like crashing pots and pans.

I close my eyes and raise my hand hesitantly, then more persistently as they continue to ignore me and just get louder. "Excuse me?" I try.

"Well, sure, if you just want to toss out everything our system is built on!" a lisping voice on the right.

"But the book says nothing about how to deal with something like this!"

"Excuse me?" I try a little louder, waving my hand a bit.

"And what about when the Rats find out, huh? Most people aren't clear about what happened, but rumors are already spreading! We will be defenseless!" the robust man again.

"Excuse me?!" I shout, some of the clatter and clangor in my head slipping out in my voice.

A few of them pause, but most just keep getting louder.

I press my hands to my temples and squeeze my eyes shut against all the ruckus in my head.

"Killing her is the best option," my eyes fly open and attempt to locate the source of the statement, but the sentiment seems to be echoed from all corners. A heady rush of fear ripples through me. "It is our best chance of getting the Music back!" They start to move in on me like a pack of wolves.

"Be quiet all of you," the man at the head of the table has chosen only now to stand up. I recognize the clean cut, dark eyed, white haired old man that I fell on just this afternoon. The first piper, he might as well be The Piper himself with the perfect attention that just his voice demands.

"You all know very well that we are not going to kill her." He looks right into my wide eyes, and as the noise dies down in my head I look right back, but instead of the compassion that I might expect from his words, I see only a schedule. I can read in his pale face the whole list of things which must be done before killing me is the option, but a very dead me is definitely on his list.

My stomach flips, and I am suddenly relieved that Alister is just behind me.

"Well, good, since we have that firmly established," I clap my hands together and lean back, "I am happy to help fix the pipe. I've got some ideas." Even I am somewhat shocked by my tone of confidence. False bravado, all of it.

Well, most of it. I _was_ thinking about it and the pipe looked like wood, so I'm pretty sure with some clever adhesive mixes, a bit of puzzling, and some creative tweaks on a mending potion I could have it back, better than new. I'll even throw in a good shine up for them. They will be practically thanking me for falling on that pipe. Just as long as they don't kill me out of hasty revenge first.

However, they don't all know what a clever witch I am. Yet. So they just look at me with varying levels of incredulous. The first piper doesn't even seem to be listening to me, and motions someone over from the corner.

"Tinker!" he barks, then coughs once as if expelling the remains of the word from his mouth. A twiggy young man in glasses comes at me. He is carrying all manner of strange twisted bronze things, glass bottles, and notes.

"Just a moment, if you would," he mutters, dropping several contraptions in my lap and pushing distractedly at his messy hair.

I have not a moment to protest or consent before he starts holding a horn to my head and listening at the other side. The Children all look on, either anxious or bored.

"May I ask what you are doing?" I ask with all the politeness I can muster. He drops the horn back in my lap and looks at me as if suddenly remembering that I can talk.

"I am trying to determine how much of the pipe's Music is now contained within your body," the man responds. "This won't hurt," he adds, uselessly, just before he pinches my arm with some sort of twisted calipers.

"Ouch!" I jump, because he lied. Stupid Rat-eaten fibber.

He ignores my protests and squints at the dial on the offending tool. "Hmm," he muses and squints even harder.

"Well?" the thin woman calls from the table.

The Tinker ignores her, and just peers at me intently. I look down at the tools in my lap then back up at him, because despite the rather rude manner that he is going about deciding, I am quite eager for his diagnosis as well. Particularly because it all seems rather ridiculous to me, you can't _put_ Music in something, or someone for that matter, you _play_ Music and then people hear it, right? So, the sooner they decide I am not... stealing their Music or something, the sooner I can fix the pipe and get back to Granny's, she might be wondering about me by this point. At the very least she is getting hungry.

That is when the fibbing, Rat-eaten Tinker uncorks one of his bottles with a _pop_. I catch a whiff of elder, fireweed, and hemlock and jolt back. The Tinker is startled but tries to pull me back while I try my very best to scramble off the other side of the chair.

"Don't you bring that near me!" I push and Glare at him, wrinkling my eyes at him and willing my nose longer and everything. I nearly fall off the side of the chair, shoving the bottle away. "Didn't you hear him? You don't get to kill me yet!" Because let me tell you, that stuff is poisonous. Like, excruciatingly painful poisonous. Writhing on the floor, foaming at the mouth, bleeding from the eyes kind of poisonous. Nope, none for me thanks!

The Children's heads dart from me to each other in confusion; some start reaching for their instruments. Men with spears start creeping in from the edges of the room, as if wondering if they should hold me down or not. The chair starts tipping, but fortunately Alister is there to right it again.

"What are you doing?" he hisses at me.

I glare are him. Didn't he just hear me? They are trying to kill me!

I spin back on the Tinker.

"Get that bottle away from me," I snap definitively. He finally pulls it away and looks from me to Alister to the first piper.

"He is not trying to kill you," a lesser man might have rolled his eyes, but the first piper just looks exasperated.

"I just need a drop of blood," the Tinker says nervously, holding up the clear liquid for my inspection. I snatch the bottle from his grip and give it another sniff, while Children at the table start to mutter.

Well, if it was just poison then the fireweed would be a bit silly, and... that might be a hint of bluebell, so it could conceivably have something to do with testing. I glance back up at the Tinker, who just looks confused. I start to feel a bit reassured, because I am pretty certain that he didn't even mix this up himself. Got it from a witch I am sure.

I reach for my knife, before I realize my entire bag is missing. Shame that. So instead I motion expectantly towards the Tinker. "Knife, please?" I ask, rather politely, I think, considering that he nearly just tried to poison me.

He hands me a small knife and I prick my ring finger myself. No way I am letting anyone else anywhere _near_ me with a weapon at the moment. I squeeze a few drops of blood into the bottle and hand it back to the Tinker. The knife I tuck subtly as I can into the pockets of my skirt. Never know when you might need one, you know? The Tinker doesn't seem to notice, just swirls the bottle and watches the liquid inside.

I watch curiously as well, as the contents turn from red to blue.

The Tinker starts twittering and seems to be quite excited. He pulls out a magnifier and holds both eye piece and bottle up to the light, examining the color intensity, I would imagine.

He mutters some more, tilts the bottle this way and that, and then-

"She has all of it!" he exclaims to the onlookers. Nearly bouncing as he lowers the glass and looks at the other Children.

I hear sighs of "Thank the Piper," from some, and groans from others.

"All of what?" I ask, still incredulously. Maybe I'm being slow, because he can't possibly be talking about Music or magic or goodness knows what else. As Granny might say, that's all Useless Frippery. Music is just music, with an added kick for controlling Rats, right? _Right_?

"You may be experiencing some strange sensations," the Tinker turns to me, beaming and talking much too fast, "I would very much like to perform some more tests, see if I can quantify the effects."

He is way too pleased for something that can't be possible.

"This is so exciting!"

There is a whole table of Children plus myself who seem tempted to disagree.

"No one has had anywhere near this force of Music since the Piper!"

* * *

**That thing I wrote and was supposed to post. Adventure Buddies, Ahoy!**


	4. Chapter 4: The Piper's Cave

Chapter 4: The Piper's Cave

A dull roar fills the room as the Children recommence their arguments with a vengeance. The robust man is still calling for my head, but some of the other Children seem to have grown more cautious. I don't have much time to pay attention to the Children at the table, however, because a small group of three or four hurry over to me. They shove the Tinker aside and all start talking at once.

"She is much too old for the classes," a big mustache with a lute looks at me critically. He doesn't even have the manners to address me directly. The thin reedy woman nods, but looks me directly in the eye.

"You identified something from the potion. You have training as a witch," she observes, pursing her lips.

"Yes." I agree. A sour look of distaste crosses her face.

"That is going to complicate matters quite a lot," another woman with a long gray braid mutters

"What if we give her to the Rats? They could wipe her," one of the arguers from the table has wandered over with his _terrible_ ideas!

"No!" I shout, but no one seems to notice or care.

"What, and risk the Rats getting their hands on this kind of Power?" the Tinker interjects from the outskirts of the slowly gathering crowd.

The mustache man gives him a dirty look, but they fortunately seem to agree with the point and drop the idea.

No Rats. _Please_, no Rats!

"Too old for what?" I try to ask.

"There is no way she can possibly learn quickly enough, it takes years!"

"Learn what?" I ask stubbornly. I am getting very frustrated with this ignoring thing that they are doing.

"You are going to have to learn to play," Alister mutters to me, I jump because he has suddenly squeezed his way back to my shoulder.

I nearly laugh, "I don't have the _slightest_ bit of musical talent." I respond.

The Children in front of me go dead silent and stare at me. Of course. _That_ is the moment they choose to start listening to me again?

"We have to extract it from her!" the cry goes up again, and then they are all talking about killing me once more, but this time they are all much closer than they were before.

My heart beats against the jailbars of my ribs as if it could save itself by getting out.

Suddenly, there is pipe music playing, slow and sweet, all the colors of calm. The Children deflate as the sounds seep in. I listen to the gentle rise and fall of the pipe, like winds and branches, swaying with the music. Peaceful. So calm and peaceful.

My eyelids close...

"Facinating!"

The Tinker's exclamation breaks my trance, "Why would you be affected so much more potently than any of the Children?" he asks. I glance at the Children and sure enough they are just quieter, rather than the potent calm I'm feeling.

Wait, affected by... the Music? What? Is that even possible? I'm not a Rat! And everyone knows music doesn't really work on people, it is just for controlling Rats.

I glare at the Tinker, though I admit it is harder to summon up the glare.

The Music stops, as the crowd of Children part, grudgingly, to let the first piper through as he lowers his pipe. The tricky old man follows the first piper, just a step behind.

The first piper looks at me sternly. "I do not care if you have musical talent or not. You _will_ learn an instrument, and you will learn it _quickly_, or we will seek alternative methods to regain the Music of the pipe." His tone implies strongly that I will not enjoy those alternatives.

"Fair enough," I agree, thoroughly intimidated, but trying really hard not to show it, I can't let them walk all over me. "I'll be learning to play the pipe then."

"Actually," the Tinker feels the need to interject again, "I believe she could learn any instrument and the Music would be just as powerful."

The Tinker's words take all of two seconds to sink into all of the gathered Children's heads. Suddenly I am surrounded by shouts:

"She will learn the lute!"

"I will teach you the horn!"

"No! The bagpipes!"

"You don't even play the bagpipes, only Old Gerger does!"

"The lyre is far easier to learn quickly."

"She has the looks for a clarinet."

"Here!" a small harp like instrument is shoved in my hands. I bite back a wince at the pain.

"I, uh-" I look at the instrument uncertainly.

"You strum-"

"Kalrick! Are you mad?" The harp is snatched back out of my hands and shoved into his by an angry voice. "Have you lost all of your senses, almost letting her play _your_ lyre!"

For a moment most of the outrage and attention is on this Kalrick who has apparently committed something of a crime, but in moments I am swarmed by those not so easily distracted by a bit of blasphemy. Children literally start grabbing my arms and pulling. I try to insist that it really isn't necessary, as orange clangor and clatter start up again in my head.

"She will try all of them," the first piper says voice like an axe swing through the noise. I cringe a bit, and the Children back away from me. I had really been hoping for just, 'Here, this instrument is so easy even a monkey could play it'. He turns cold eyes on me, "But she will try the pipe first."

"Okay then," I agree. I don't really feel that I am in a strong position to argue at the moment. But after a few different instruments they will see what I mean when I say that I have _no_ musical talent. I'm a witch. Witches don't do music. Well, unless you count Granny dancing a jig down at the pub, and I certainly don't count it.

"Novice!" the shout goes up from at least three different Children, and they turn towards the door. A young boy no older than Georgie but with bold red hair and a mess of freckles steps into the entrance from the hallway. He holds his instrument politely behind his back and looks eagerly for an order, but is suddenly swamped with a dozen.

"Fetch a horn from the-"

"Bring me an unmarked lute!"

"Inform the headmistress that-"

"Gerger, Old Gerger must be brought here immediately."

"-from the school, all of them!"

The Children flap about with their long white sleeves like a strange assortment of very excitable geese, which I would find amusing, if they hadn't just a few minutes ago been talking about killing me.

A different set of Children has moved back to the table, talking in hushed voices that I strain to listen to. The first piper is talking to the thin reedy woman and the tricky man, "The populace does not seem to know what has happened," I hear him say, giving me a significant look as if he knows about the Look-Aside potion, "and we want to keep it that way for now. The rumors should die soon, and we will discuss how to deal with the Rats once the immediate problems are dealt with." The thin lady glares at me, labeling me with a big bold 'Immediate Problems' sign.

The populace doesn't seem to know.

Granny. She needs to know.

"Wait!" I interrupt the trio, sitting as straight as I can and doing my best to imitate the first piper's commanding tones of purple and steel. "If you want me to start playing an instrument right away, there is a problem." I hold up my red and blistered hands for their examination. "I can't hold a thing."

I hear the woman's sharp sound of disapproval, but I only see the flicker of annoyance that crosses the first piper's features. His schedule has been thrown off. He is displeased.

It is the old man, however, who fixes me with a look that reads me like sheet music.

"Well, you seem to have a solution prepared for us. What should we expect?"

I give him a wry look, there was no need to go making it obvious what I was trying to do. Tricky man.

"Granny on Chippage Street will have a balm. If I can get that and some bandages, I will be better by morning." I inform them.

"We will send a novice to fetch them," the first piper says dismissively.

"No, no, don't bother with a novice, they will get lost in the city and waste time. Besides, Chippage is hardly the best neighborhood to be sending a little novice into," I say, appealing to his desire for this to be finished quickly. "Send him," I point to Alister.

Alister suddenly stops eying the guards on the walls and looks at me with a mix of surprise and trying to hide how crazy he seems to think I am even though I'm being quite clever here. He is hardly going to be any use against eight guards and a flock of angry Children, and if he's no use in a fight, and not much use for his brains, then he is much better fetching people who would be of use.

The first piper looks at me with a glare like ice cold water. I don't waver. The neither of us have missed the power play I am making. I am exerting a small amount of control over the situation, and setting a tone. Now it is his turn to respond to the idea that I might not roll over and follow orders.

"Very well," he agrees and I feel like I could topple over in relief, but I don't move other than to nod.

"Alister," I turn towards him, turning as much as I can away from the trio of firsts. "Here's what I need you to _bring_," I try to use only my eyes to put emphasis on the words and keep it out of my voice. "_Granny_ will have a burn balm, get at least four scoops of it and gauze bandages. Tell her they _need to come here_. The house is on Chippage. If you take a short way on _Partridge_, you should turn left on Chippage and it's the only green house."

Alister doesn't even blink when I say it. Rats! I forgot how new he must be. Partridge isn't even a street, but I don't know if he knows that. I want him to stop by the station and talk to the Captain. Captain Partridge might be able to help me out of this mess, or at least get me some slightly more savvy protection, like an experienced guard who would pick my hints up right away. But Alister... the best I can hope is that he will even figure out to bring Granny.

Alister nods at both of us. "I'll be quick," he tells me, then trots out. I watch him leave, while the Children recommence their discussion behind me. Bells and pipes, but I hope he manages.

Now, onto the next order of business. The first piper has resumed their discussion. "Excuse me?" I ask, interrupting the trio again.

The piper rolls his eyes and turns back to me in exasperation. "What now?" he asks impatiently.

"I would like to see the pipe," I inform them.

The first piper shrugs like he would agree to just about anything to get me out of his hair while he thinks, but he is cut off. "Absolutely not," the woman says dismissively, like she is some sort of authority. "You have done enough damage as it is." I chafe a little at that.

"I am _trying_ to help," I snap. This woman is a Queen Rat and I don't have a lot of patience for fools. I don't even bother to respond to her, and turn straight to the first piper instead. "Well, like I mentioned before, though I guess some people weren't listening," I add with a poisonous ring to my tone, because she _was_ the one to ask me after all. "I'm a witch, and a rather crafty one at that, and I feel quite certain that I can fix your pipe. So since it sounds like you don't want word about the pipe spreading, and since I am really the only one with the skills here to fix it then I don't think you have a lot of other options. The sooner we at least make the Piper's Pipe _look_ fixed, the sooner you can show it around and act like nothing is wrong." I look victoriously back at the woman. Let the piper shut her down like he did all those other foolish Children.

The reedy woman is fuming such that I start to wonder if she might actually burst into flames. "Impertinent girl," she says with black rage thrumming thick black notes in the back of my mind. She knows I am right, and she hates her foolishness being pointed out with nothing she can do about it.

But then the first piper does something terrible, instead of nodding and agreeing with me like he should, he turns to her. "What do you think?" he asks her. Her lips curl up almost imperceptibly. That is when I realized my mistake. My very large mistake. It seems that the woman and tricky man are peers to the first piper rather than minions, and I just made an enemy of one.

"I think it is a good idea," the wonderful, kind, magnanimous old man cuts in before the woman can pronounce her doom upon me. "I will take her to it, Leraine. You can handle things here."

The reedy woman, or Leraine, locks eyes with the old man and they have at least ten terrifying seconds of silent argument. Finally, she nods, though it looks like it hurts her to do so and crosses her arms in intense dissatisfaction. "It is better that she were very far away at the moment," she hissed, the rage blowing out of her like steam from a kettle, "her presence is not helping to calm anyone down."

"I will keep a close eye on her," the old man assures her.

"Behave," is the only word the first piper decides to add to the conversation. Right, like I know exactly how to escape this maze of a mountain. I contain my look of distaste for the order until the first piper and Leraine move off into the crowd of other Children. The tricky old man motions me out of the chair and out a side door, and with a final grimace for my stupidity I follow him.

We walk down a dim stone hallway with small circular windows carved into the wall at intervals. Our footsteps echo back at us like jumbled drum beats.

"I trust that you already realize how much extra trouble you have made for yourself?" the old man says pleasantly as if we were discussing the weather. I only barely pick up on the whisper of steely seriousness behind it.

"About two river's worth, I am sure," I assure him gloomily.

"Good, as long as you recognize it. Leraine will come around- probably. Still, I must admit," he continue conversationally while leading me down long winding steps, "While it is a rather dramatic way to do it, I think some excitement is good for the Council once in a while. Keeps things interesting," his smile is wide and mischievous, and invites me to join in on the little joke.

"If interesting is what we want to call it," I make a face. "I was thinking of several different words in there."

He looks at me, then bursts into a chuckle. "All of which were perfectly diplomatic, I am sure." We pass a slightly green and damp spot in the hallway, and I can hear the tinny rush of a waterfall as it passes right above our hallway, dripping only occasionally from the ceiling.

He looks at me rather more intently. "My colleagues have been threatening you for the last hour and I realize that we do not even know your name."

"Willow Wetherwitch," I answer, head held high.

"And I am Fyroh, it is an unexpected pleasure to be acquainted. If I may ask, is Wetherwitch a name from Granny Wetherwitch?"

"It's an apprentice name, not an orphan name," I snap defensively.

"I was not aware there was a difference," he responds, but the way he says it there is only polite curiosity. He is missing the normal mocking tone, so I let it slide.

"Witch raised orphans take on the name, but don't learn the witchery and leave once they find work," I inform him. "Granny doesn't take orphans, she takes apprentices. And how do you know Granny anyway?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"We met briefly once," he says enigmatically.

I am coming up with a response when I am suddenly distracted as we exit the long tunnel of a hallway onto a white balcony above the entire city. Evening has nearly set, and the sun started tucking itself into the mountains across the valley, but the Children's Villiage is lit and sparkling just below us in the last light. The city of Habedash at the bottom of the mountain lies, protected by a fiery belt of river reflecting the golden sky.

"It is always a pleasure to bring visitors here," Fyroh says in a voice as lazy and drifting as the river below, "I sometimes forget how beautiful it is up here, but I am always reminded when I see others appreciate it."

I tug my gaze from the view. "Lovely as it is, I believe we were busy getting a pipe," I say, only a little regretfully, but we are on serious business right now. More time for sunsets later.

"Certainly," Fyroh agrees, "Pardon an old man and his small pleasures." He smiles that rosemary smile and we continue, at a somewhat subdued pace, from the balcony and up a switching white path along the side of the mountain. The climb is rather steep and we do not speak, me because I am somewhat winded, and him because he seems to have nothing to say.

As we climb the wide zig-zagging trail I begin to pick out our destination in the fading light. Above our heads stands a tall proud white statue of who can only be the Piper himself, eternally watching over his Children and the city. We climb right up to his feet, and I stand, craning my head up to look at the huge statue, while the old man walks right up to the Piper's feet. He kneels at a stream running between the statue's legs and scoops a handful of water. He takes a small sip then pours the rest onto the foot of the piper.

"It's tradition, but I have always suspected it is because the climb it such thirsty work," he explains when he sees my questioning look. "Come," he says, motioning me to come around to the back side of the statue. I follow the worn stone path behind the Piper and to a tunnel carved into the rock. The tunnel is only a few steps long, and at the other end is a wide balcony of sorts overlooking a tumbling collection of waterfalls. An entire river's worth of streams seemed to have chosen this particular slope to wander and twist down. They mix together then fall a story. Then divide and wandering down the fallen trees and piles of rock, such that I cannot tell quite where is one bank of this stream and where the other, though I guess the dim light might have something to do with that as well.

"I thought we were done looking at scenery," I say somewhat impatiently.

"Indeed, I believe it was you who was distracted," he says with a smile, walking over to me with a long dark wood box in his hands. He opens the box to me, and inside sits four large cracked pieces of white wood and a handful of smaller slivers.

"You keep the Piper's Pipe just lying around up here?" I say incredulously, ignoring the guilt that squeezes my stomach as I look at the broken relic.

"This is the Piper's sanctuary, it is better guarded than you might think," Fyroh shrugs.

I look around for the guards. "The guards are back on the entrances to the paths, but that is not what I speak of. This is the place where the Piper came to listen to the River for weeks and months, to learn its songs and its Music. This place is protected by the Piper himself."

For a moment, I stare at him, and almost believe him. Then I come to my senses."Look, Music is one thing. It it very good at protecting us from Rats, I give you that. Everyone knows the Piper was the most powerful man in the history of the city, but Music is gone the moment after you play it. I find it hard to believe that he is protecting this place now, when I don't hear a thing but the water." I look at him expectantly.

He smiles just at the corner of his eyes. "It doesn't much matter what you believe, but what any potential thieves believe. I didn't say this place was protected by Music, now did I, Miss Wetherwitch?"

I blink. Then frown. Then narrow my eyes and smile. "I made your argument for you didn't I? Everyone knows the Piper was the most powerful man in the city, his sanctuary is protected by his legend and his reputation." I grin wryly at him. "I mean, who would believe that he _wouldn't_ do a thing to protect what was his?"

Fyroh gives me a pleased sort of look. "I believe we came here to examine the Pipe?" he offers me the box.

"Right! Right, of course," I take the wooden box from him and sit right down on the floor. I start picking up pieces and giving them a good hard look over. "Looks like they were mostly clean breaks," I bite my lip, turning what I suspect to be the bottom piece over in my hands. "And not too many breaks either," I lie. There are quite a number of pieces, this could prove a challenge. Excellent, because I really didn't have enough challenges right now.

I start puzzling out where pieces belong. If there is a hole here, then I need a curved bit- there! And there's a crack. I wonder if the mending potion can handle that alone or if I will need to get some wood glue in there...

"You really believe you can fix it?" Fyroh asks curiously, interrupting my thoughts.

"It doesn't much matter what I believe," I respond with just a bit of a dry look. "As long as all the Children believe that I am more use to them breathing."

"You are a quick learner Miss Wetherwitch," and in the persistently growing gloom I almost miss the flash of his smile.

"Yeah well, that's me," I shrug, not feeling much like a quick or clever learner after the events of today. "Are there any torches?" I turn the topic, "I can barely see the pipe to examine it."

"We have better." I watch his shadow as it tip-taps over to a divet in the wall. His hands fiddle with something and suddenly there is a pool of diamond blue light running from the groove in the wall. What looks like an ornate vase of water is attached to the wall by bronze bands, and for some reason, the water seems to be glowing.

"How did you do that?" I demand, so startled I nearly drop the bits of pipe I am holding. I put the pieces down, throughly distracted, and hurry eagerly over to the new mystery spilling light from the wall.

"You've never heard of River Light?" Fyroh chuckles like a river himself, moving to the next dip in the wall- more fiddling and more light. I glance back at the vase, so bright I can barely look straight at it, but it casts swirling patterns of light on the stone.

I glare wrinkle nosed suspicion at him, "I thought that was- extinct or like a myth or something."

"Oh it's quite real, as you see yourself," he says mysteriously. I swear he keeps his wrinkles just for hiding secrets in his grins. "I believe this is the only River Light in the city, but it seems an appropriate place to keep it, don't you think?"

I nod furiously. Something about this River Light has my thoughts running clearer than they have all day. I scurry back to collect the pipe so I can work right beneath the lamp. I pile the pieces carefully as I can back in the box.

I am suddenly struck by the strangest feeling of creeping little bugs all over my brain. I squirm and brush my legs off like I could brush off the sensation. I peer curiously up at Fyroh to see if he was struck with the same sensation, but he just seems to be calmly lighting the final vase, frowning as the little fiddly device on the bottom proves more difficult than the previous-

I hit the rail, smack-whip-crack. I groan and cough, head spinning, spine feeling something much sharper than that creepy crawly. My ears roar like the river suddenly running behind my eyes. Fyroh shouts. I look up, and I must have hit my head too hard. Hunched and snarling towards me, is a Rat.

* * *

**So, I actually wrote this chapter like four different times, where she ended up in four completely different places. Finally, I got tired of none of the places being quite exciting enough, so I decided that Will needed to make some enemies to spice things up a bit. I actually love Leraine as a dangerous character, and since that still wasn't quite enough I decided to throw in a Rat at the end for good measure. WHOOO getting to write chaotic fight scenes!**


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